I don't remember...
I don't remember why I stopped writing,
but it was probably around the same time
that I started being afraid;
when I began holding my words and my
feelings
closer and closer and closer
to my chest,
afraid to let them go;
when I decided that what I had to say
wasn't worth saying-
because even if someone
read, or
listened, or
perceived, somehow,
no degree of consumption would guarantee
understanding.
And what I wanted,
above all,
was to feel understood.
I think this is less important, now.